Forgetting to Breathe
by lalalei
Summary: The Millennium Necklace doesn't need Shadow Games to inflict pain. Wearing it, Ishizu learns, is punishment enough.


Ishizu Ishtar has two ways of seeing things—one with her eyes, one with the Necklace. Both bring pain in their own ways. With her physical body she can see quite clearly the pain Marik has inflicted on others; the Pharaoh, his friends, even herself. She has aged many years in only six, she thinks, and tries not to think of what that would mean for Marik.

With the Necklace she sees far worse things.

Involuntarily, her fists clench, her breath tightens. Bright, gleaming gold dances across her eyelids. She doesn't know why she feels surprised at the intrusion—hadn't she seen it coming, too? Against her better judgment, Ishizu submits to what she's already seen countless times.

By this point she can recite the familiar tapestry by heart, move by move. Some events in the recent past, others yet to come.

Over and over, she sees the Spirit of the Ring's defeat at Yugi's hands, his host narrowly avoiding death due to a last-minute change of heart.

The blond-haired, strong-willed boy—Joey, she recalls—faced her brother's protector, Odion, and won through sheer willpower and the support of his friends. He meant well, and fought well, and he has earned his victory. She can't deny him that, nor can she hate him—even though a small part of her whispers that she _should_.

But it doesn't matter who caused what, for all will fall into ruin regardless.

Despite all she has seen before, and all she sees after, she cannot stop herself from shaking. She sees how Marik, warped and twisted beyond recognition by his own darkness given being, defeated Mai, banishing her mind to the darkness.

As for the matter at hand...

She sees her coming defeat of Seto Kaiba, his face distorted in rage, his cards scattered across the surface of the blimp, though for all his hatred and fury it's as nothing compared to what comes after. She knows too well what comes after.

Glowing in triumph, his might bolstered by every trapped soul writhing in pain, Marik will set his hungry sights on her at last.

She will duel him.

And she will lose.

She knows this.

No matter the moves she sees herself making, it stays the same. The outcome is always the same.

Ishizu can feel every inch of his searing, seething hatred, all directed at her. She can feel the unsteady rhythm of her own heartbeat, slowing and speeding intermittently. She can feel the unbearable heat of Ra's flames as they bathe the field in unholy light. She knows, for an instant, a burst of white-hot pain, can hear roaring laughter, the _voice_ that snakes through her mind— _so, sister, how painful is it to know you'd lose?_

She knows she will never see her brother's smile, his _real_ smile, ever again.

Perhaps mercifully, the visions never continue past that point, so Ishizu cannot see whether the darkness would kill her quickly or slowly devour her soul. What she can see is what's left of Marik, screaming and pleading for help against the shadowy flames licking his body, crying for relief that never comes. She hates these last visions more than anything, for she feels—sometimes nobly, sometimes selfishly—that if it was just her own pain she could endure it. It is her brother's pain she cannot forget, nor forgive. Part of her—if she's honest, _most_ of her—blames herself for his fall.

She had seen it coming, after all.

How many times had she seen it play out in her mind, seeing exactly how her brother would give into his hatred, seen herself failing to stop him? How many times had she told herself it wouldn't work out that way? She'd say something different and get through to him; or Odion would calm Marik, as was his way; or her brother would realize on his own that bitter revenge against a king who was already dead would leave him empty, hollow, desiccated inside even if he exacted it.

But it all turned out as she'd seen. The visions were always the same. The outcome, too, came and went exactly as described. No amount of pleading, of hoping, of cursing the circlet round her throat would change that. On bad days she swore she felt the Necklace tighten, cutting off her circulation, and in due time she learned to keep such toxic thoughts to herself.

Clench. Unclench. Breathe.

But the ache in Ishizu's chest lingers.

She isn't sure whether she loves the Necklace, hates it, or fears it. It's likely a mix of all three. It has shown her how to act and how not to act, what to do and what not to do. It has shown her an unyielding, unchanging future, for better or for worse. It has eliminated the concept of surprise from her world.

What Ishizu wants most, she knows, is the desire to _understand_ —to know why it all fits together, _why_ destiny unfolds one way and not another. The Necklace has always shown her the wheres and hows— _this is what he'll do when you meet; this is what you'll say to earn his trust; this is how you'll win the duel_ —but never the whys. Never. (She had asked it _why_ , once, but it showed her the night the darkness in her brother took hold, and from then on she avoided asking it anything.)

She blinks and finds Seto Kaiba yelling at her to make a move already.

Right. The duel. She'd nearly forgotten.

Ishizu listens to Kaiba seethe and rail against her, against destiny, against the _concept_ of destiny, and Ishizu understands because she's felt it too. She'd hoped, against all odds, that the Necklace would be wrong, that her brother would not fall into darkness. But he had. She is furious at Kaiba for not understanding, furious at herself for listening to him at all, more determined than ever to show him firsthand what she had to learn the hard way.

He will duel her.

And he will lose.

She knows this.

When Kaiba breaks free of her hold—the Necklace's hold— _destiny's_ hold—it is almost too much for her mind to bear. Ishizu takes her (non-fatal, heart still beating) loss as well as she can, and knows without seeing that the Necklace has fallen silent for her. It is just gold and an empty, faintly shimmering eye, refusing to heed her commands or instill commands of its own.

She has lost.

She is freed.

Everything she thought she knew is wrong.

Kaiba decided his future and shattered her perception of hers.

If her brother wins as he is, she knows, everything will end. If the Pharaoh wins, the light will return, but her brother will die. She cannot see, or think, of a third option available to her. if they do not duel nothing will get worse, but nothing will get better. They will _have_ to fight—though a small, forgotten part of her wishes they wouldn't.

Without the Necklace Ishizu cannot balance the weight of everyone alive versus the weight of her family. She wonders how she could _with_ the accursed object. All she can do now, she thinks, is to place her trust in the Pharaoh, in Yugi.

With a sudden jolt, Ishizu realizes she has never seen the Pharaoh win against her brother in any of her visions.

She had only hoped he would.

She supposes now hope is all she has left.

Yugi (might) win.

Marik (might) lose.

The (her) world might (not) end.

Ishizu (doesn't) know this for certain.

Her fists are clenched so tightly that Ishizu realizes she's forgotten to breathe.


End file.
